A Boy's Story
by Rosebud5
Summary: "So, how is it you came to be running away from Newgate then, Dodger?" the older man asked. The young thief snorted dryly, looking up at the starry sky. "You could say I've been on me way to this night me whole life, sir."


Phew! What a rush! I haven't published anything in a dog's age, and then here I go, six new one-shots that just wrote themselves! Here's a Dodger one for you lot... I got totally inspired after watching _Escape of the Artful Dodger_...What a great TV series it is! Loved it. Right! So! Here's this little story for you all... Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: If I was Charles Dickens, I'd be dead.

~Rosey

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**A Boy's Story**

_"A boy's story is the best that's ever told." ~Charles Dickens_

It was funny, really, how the police thought they could keep the Artful Dodger behind bars.

He was trained to be the best of the best of the worst of the worst, and no cell could keep him captive for long. And so, two days after being sentenced to deportation to an Australian colony, Jack Dawkins was running down the dark London streets, grinning to himself at how easy it was to escape that bloody Newgate prison. "Hardest prison in London to escape." Well, they obviously never dealt with the Artful Dodger before.

The one thing Dodger hadn't counted on was how exhausted he'd get with all this running. Being locked up in a cell for months and months didn't exactly do wonders for one's health, and he was getting quite tired, thank you. Exhausted, actually. The only question was, what was a safe place to stop and rest for the night? After all, he was on the lam now, wasn't he? It would have to be someone who hadn't heard the news that would doubtless be spreading like wildfire by morning. Someone who hadn't been in town, maybe… Someone who had…

_A carriage! _Dodger could hardly believe his luck as a carriage suddenly came bouncing by, being pulled by a handsome horse, reigned in by a middle-aged man sitting in the driver's seat, his face seemingly kind, albeit a little tired. Dodger stopped in his tracks, wincing at a painful stitch in his side, kneeling down with his hands on his knees. As soon as the carriage was within spitting distance, Dodger rose a hand, calling out hoarsely "'Ey! Pardon me, sir! Don't reckon you could spare a chap a ride?"

The man in the seat glanced at Dodger for a moment before pulling on the reigns and bringing the carriage to a stop right beside where Dodger was still struggling to catch his breath. "My lands boy, what happened to you?" the man asked in surprise, looking at the eighteen-year-old with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll explain everythin' if you'll just give me a ride out of town," Dodger straightened up, still holding his side.

The man in the carriage just looked at him for a moment, the wheels in his head obviously turning, before a smile finally came to his lips and he nodded, jerking his head towards the seat next to him. "Oh, come on then. Get in."

Mumbling a thank you, Dodger hurried over to the carriage and slid into the passenger seat. The starry night air was cold, but it felt good to Dodger as the man flicked the reigns, causing the carriage to start bouncing along again.

"So," the man turned to look at his passenger, running a hand through his own beard. "What's your name then, lad?"

"Jack," Dodger replied, taking off his top hat to push his brown hair off his forehead. "Jack Dawkins. But me more intimate friends calls me the Artful Dodger."

The man chuckled, nodding his head. "The Artful Dodger, hmm? And what, may I ask, are you doing out here in the dark running like the police are on your tail?"

"Well that's 'cause they are, sir," Dodger chuckled shamelessly. "Escaped from Newgate, see? And you can peach on me if you'd like, or take me back to Newgate, but I escaped once, I can escape again. Or, you can just take me to the edge of town. I ain't 'armful or nothin'. Though, I'll advise you check yer pockets when ya drops me off…I pick pockets out of 'abit sometimes, see?"

The man laughed, shaking his head. "Well. You really are something, Mr. Dodger."

"'Ey, just Dodger's fine," the young man grinned, tipping his hat to the man. "That mister title just don't suit me."

The older man chuckled, shaking his head yet again. "Very well then, Dodger." The two were quiet for a moment before the older man spoke again. "So, how is it you came to be running away from Newgate then, Dodger?"

The young thief snorted dryly, looking up at the starry sky. "You could say I've been on me way to this night me whole life, sir."

The other man nodded, looking thoughtful. "Yes, I've been down a path similar to that myself. Only for me it was a shoe blackening factory, not Newgate."

"Ah, the more 'onest path, then," Jack grinned, rolling his eyes. "Yes there is that option. Never a fan of it myself. Oliver, on the other 'and…There's a disgustingly 'onest chap."

"Oliver?" the older man looked at his companion in confusion.

"Oh yeah, Oliver Twist," Dodger nodded, yawning behind his hand. "Kid wot's the real reason I'm on this 'ere escape trip."

And suddenly Dodger was telling him everything. How he found Oliver and took him in to Fagin's, how Oliver had found his family, how Nancy had been killed and Sikes got what he deserved and how Dodger himself was arrested after simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"And that's about all of it," Dodger finished with a little sigh, not even aware that they had reached the edge of town about ten minutes ago and the carriage was at a stand still in the shadows, the older man listening to him intently. When the story was finished, a silence stretched between the two for ages until the older man at last spoke.

"Well, Dodger, you are quite the story teller. And all of it's true?"

"Yes, sir. First time I've told the complete truth for more than ten minutes straight in as long as I can remember. Feels kinda good, to be 'onest," Dodger smirked. He looked around his surroundings for seemingly the first time before leaping down off the carriage, tipping his hat to the man. "Well, thanks for yer 'elp, mate." He paused for another moment before asking with crossed arms. "Wot's yer name again, mate? Don't think I caught it."

"Dickens," the reply came as the man clicked the reigns and the carriage began bouncing off again. "Charles Dickens."

And within moments, the carriage was vanished into the darkness of the night, and the Artful Dodger was on his way.

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There ya go! That's the end! Well, I hope you all like it! If so, let me know in a REVIEW!

~Rosey


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